We are living in a world where no one is immortal. We are all going to die one day — that’s the reality.
But when it comes to our loved ones, I often feel like the time we have with them is never enough. That’s how it feels for me whenever I lose someone I love.
My Papa was sick with diabetes for years before he died. He passed away suddenly from a heart attack on July 7th, 2021. I still remember the shock when it happened, because just three hours before he passed, he called me to complain about the AC in his room being broken and asked me to find a technician to fix it. I was often his go-to person whenever he needed something.
After Papa died, I struggled deeply — it was so unexpected. But there was one thing that gave me some solace: knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. For years, he had to endure daily insulin shots, strict diets, endless doctor visits — which was especially hard for him because he loved good food. In those last months, he really suffered, and I hold on to the comfort that he is finally free from that pain.
What helped me through those first months of grief was the support of close friends, journaling, and constantly reminding myself: Papa isn’t suffering anymore.
Grief and the Weight of Time
Time is the part I struggled with most. Grieving felt hardest when I kept thinking, “I should’ve had more time with him.”
That’s when journaling and keeping photos of past memories became my solace — dinners out, birthdays we celebrated, pictures of Papa playing with his pet birds. Because I have ADHD and go through severe depressive episodes, my memory often fails me. But those pictures help me remember that we did have good times together.
We had a good relationship. We shared so many happy moments. And those memories are eternal — they live inside me.
I still miss him deeply. I wish I could have more time with him, but I also know I can always revisit the memories we made together. Papa isn’t in pain anymore. That thought makes me happy, and because of it, I’ve made peace with his passing.
A New Storm
Recently, though, I’ve been going through another storm. My cousin — who is like a sister to me — has been dealing with several health issues for years. And now, suddenly, she was diagnosed with cancer and had to start chemotherapy.
I was devastated. I couldn’t accept it at first. My cousin is one of the funniest, kindest people I know. Despite the very hard life she had growing up, she never became bitter or cold. Instead, it built her resilience, her humor, and her generosity.
I was frustrated and angry at the situation. And the weight of it all began affecting my mental health, my relationships, and even my ability to lead my project effectively.
When Helplessness Hits
Yesterday was the worst. After so many failed attempts to support her, I turned the blame inward. I started believing I was a failure.
Then, a conversation changed everything. Someone pointed out to me that what I was experiencing has a name: helplessness.
Just hearing that word shifted something inside me. Naming it helped me realize what was really happening — and that if I wasn’t careful, this helplessness could spiral into self-hatred.
I took a step back, went out to the porch, and gave myself space to breathe.
Radical Acceptance
Of course, I want my cousin to heal and be completely healthy. But I also know chemotherapy is hard on the body, and there are no guarantees.
Here’s what I’ve come to realize: nobody is immortal. Our time is limited. But there’s one thing we do have power over — how we choose to spend the time we have.
That afternoon, something shifted. I texted my cousin just to say I missed her. She laughed and said I was being silly. I asked what she wanted for dinner since it was Saturday night, but she had already eaten. I told her to message me if she needed anything, and she thanked me. We sent each other hugging stickers, and I let her rest — chemo makes her so tired these days.
Choosing Peace
This Sunday afternoon, I’m writing this post because I want to share my journey with anyone who may be going through something similar. Maybe my words can bring you a little solace.
What I chose to do is something called Radical Acceptance — a concept from DBT’s Distress Tolerance module.
Here’s what it teaches:
- Pain is pain.
- Pain without acceptance becomes suffering.
- Radical Acceptance is choosing to fully accept reality as it is — doing what you can control, and letting go of what you can’t.
- By practicing Radical Acceptance, suffering transforms back into ordinary pain.
I love my cousin, and I want her to be healed. But in the meantime, I found peace again. My limbic system stopped hijacking my brain. My prefrontal cortex came back online. I could think clearly, lead my team again, and be present for my friends.
I apologized to my loved ones for having been absent. I booked an appointment with my counselor for Tuesday to take care of myself.
I’m grateful for that conversation that helped me recognize my helplessness — and for guiding me toward Radical Acceptance.
I’m not saying it’s easy. But today, I feel lighter. I feel steadier. And that’s enough.
wwtbyh 